Odd Hessel

I know that it's the very definition of a first world problem. I'm in Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula in late September. It's unseasonably warm; temperatures are in the low 70s with bright sunshine. And especially in light of the recent issues down south in the after effects of Hurricane Helene, I've got it well. So what's the trouble, Marty?

Well, the Sun seems harsh, for lack of a better term. It's lower in the horizon and feels unusually bright. The sky, an expanse of very light blue virtually every day I've been here, is also abnormally striking. It almost looks surreal, as though not blue enough.

So I wonder: is the Sun harder on the eyes this time of year? Does its angle towards the Earth make the sky more uncomfortable? Even in the shadows on the ground I find such a higher definition of brightness and shade that it can be disconcerting, indeed almost other-worldly. Is there an astronomical explanation for this or am I psychologically superimposing ideas upon it?

There's advantages, to be sure. The earlier sunsets and later sunrises make it easier to see the starry night sky, which I love. I saw a couple of shooting stars at around 5 AM yesterday. In summer, it's already dawn by that time. I have to be up at two to see such things in June. 

I still like being here. Yet it never felt this way before, during the day anyway.